Ahoy Matey
by x-Pretty-Kitty-x
Summary: A little kidlock brotherly au. Sherlock always loved to play pirates and his big brother Mycroft would play too. This went on for a few years before Mycroft told Sherlock to grow up. Who knew that that one day would change Sherlock forever?
1. Ahoy Matey

**Chapter One**

"Ahoy, matey!" The four year old exclaimed, standing proudly on top of Mycroft's desk.

"Sherlock, dear brother, I do wish you wouldn't bring your pirate games into my office." The older Holmes sighed in exasperation, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Then play with me, Myc!" Sherlock exclaimed, handing him a spare sword.

"Little brother, I have work to do."

"_Please_." Sherlock replied sweetly, giving his best puppy-dog eyes.

"_One_ game, Sherlock. Then I _must _get back to work." Mycroft sighed, grabbing the sword from his little brother.

"YAY!" Sherlock cheered, climbing off his brother's desk and running over to the couch to grab Mycroft a pirate hat.

Mycroft crouched down as his little brother dumped the hat on his head and stepped back.

"On guard!" Sherlock exclaimed, pointing his sword at Mycroft.

"Ah, touché, on guard!" Mycroft exclaimed in return, batting Sherlock's sword away with his own.

"I'll see you dead, scoundrel." Sherlock growled, which hitched into a squeak at the end.

Mycroft suppressed a giggle and play duelled with his little brother, missing him by inches due to Sherlock's speed and agility.

Sherlock giggled every time Mycroft missed him and with a well-timed blow, he got the older Holmes in the chest.

Mycroft dramatically clutched his chest, groaning as he fell onto the floor.

"Hahaha I told you, scoundrel!" Sherlock cheered loudly, dancing around his brother.

x..x

"Mycroft, play pirates with me!" A little seven year old screamed with delight, holding the sword out for his older brother.

"Sherlock, I'm working." Mycroft replied, not looking up from the documents he was reading.

"But we always play pirates." Sherlock whined, giving his famous puppy-dog eyes.

"No, Sherlock. I'm busy."

"But, Mycroft …"

"Sherlock, you would do well to learn that childish games must end. You will not be a little boy forever and games have no place in the real world." Mycroft snapped, finally looking at his brother.

"No more pirates?" Sherlock whispered sadly.

"No more games." Mycroft corrected, looking back to his paperwork.

"But …"

"Run along now, Sherlock."

Sherlock understood the dismissal and left the room sadly, closing the door behind him.

He made his way up to his room and sat down on his bed, looking at his pirate props before throwing them across the room forcefully.

There was a knock on the door and the maid entered with a bright smile.

"Not playing pirates with Master Mycroft?"

"Games are for children, Dana. I'm not a little boy anymore." Sherlock snapped, fixing the maid with a glare.

"I'll leave you be then, Master Sherlock." Dana replied sadly, walking back out of the room and closing the door behind her.

x..x

As Sherlock grew older, the pirate props were left at the back of the cupboard unused until he even forgot they were there.

Eventually Sherlock moved out of his family home and into Baker Street, a few years later he met John but Sherlock never mentioned about his childhood to his dear friend. Having been forced to grow up ahead of years had left Sherlock to bury most of his childhood memories in the back of his mind.

After the case with Irene Adler, Mycroft reveals a very interesting memory from Sherlock's past.

"My brother has the brain of a scientist or a philosopher and yet he elects to be a detective. What might we deduce about his heart?" Mycroft asked with a hint of condescending tone.

"I don't know." John replied matter-of-factly.

"Neither do I. But initially, he wanted to be a pirate." Mycroft replied, a sort of smile appearing on his face.

x..x

"Mycroft had a very interesting thing to share with me the other day." John announces, having waited until the issue of Irene had relatively died down.

"Oh, and what would that be?" Sherlock asked, not looking up from his position on the couch.

"He said you wanted to be a pirate when you were a kid." John replied, a smirk appearing on his face.

Sherlock's eyes snapped open before he replied, "Why would he tell you that?"

"Not a clue. But, I could imagine a little Sherlock in a pirate costume, waving a sword around." John grinned, sitting on the edge of the couch.

"It wasn't a costume, it was a hat." Sherlock replied without thinking.

"He was telling the truth? Bloody hell! I bet you were adorable!" John giggles, ruffling Sherlock's curls.

"Piss off!" Sherlock snapped, batting John's hand away and closing his eyes again.

"We all had embarrassing moments from our childhood, Sherlock. It's another to be ashamed of."

"Yes, well, I'd rather not remember mine. Thank you." Sherlock snapped, sitting up and almost kicking John in the face. "I'm going to bed."

"Night then." John replied awkwardly, leaning back into the couch.

Sherlock walked into his room and over to his chest of drawers, pulling out an old photograph. He smiled softly before turning it over and reading the back:

_Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes_

_30__th__ March 1981_

He put the photo down on his bedside table and flopped onto the bed, falling asleep almost immediately.

x..x

An hour later, John went downstairs to see if Sherlock was okay and to apologise for before, even though he wasn't sure why he should be apologising.

He tapped on the door softly before entering, seeing Sherlock face down on his bed and surprisingly, asleep.

John chuckled softly to himself, walking over to the younger man's side and pulling the blanket over him.

When he pulled away, John saw the photo on the bedside table and smiled.

"So you _did_ want to be a pirate. But, Mycroft never mentioned that he played too. Such a sweet little boy, what happened that was so horrible?" John whispered to himself sadly.

He placed the photo back down on the bedside table before looking back at his friend. He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss on his temple, pulling the blanket further up.

"Goodnight, Sherlock." John whispered softly, moving away and heading for the door.

Just as he was about to shut the door, he heard Sherlock's broken voice.

"Goodnight, John."


	2. He Wanted To Be A Pirate

**He Wanted To Be A Pirate**

"_So you did want to be a pirate. But, Mycroft never mentioned that he played too. Such a sweet little boy, what happened that was so horrible?" John whispered to himself sadly._

_He placed the photo back down on the bedside table before looking back at his friend. He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss on his temple, pulling the blanket further up._

"_Goodnight, Sherlock." John whispered softly, moving away and heading for the door._

_Just as he was about to shut the door, he heard Sherlock's broken voice._

"_Goodnight, John." _

John breathed before closing the bedroom door and heading up to his bedroom.

Twenty minutes after tossing and turning in bed, John heard a knock at his bedroom door.

"Come in, Sherlock."

"John … Can we talk?" Sherlock whispered, hovering in the doorway.

"What is it, Sherlock?" John asked softly, sitting up in bed.

"Mm, can I sit down?" Sherlock asked tentatively, moving slowly closer.

"Go ahead." John replied with a reassuring smile.

"Thank you. I didn't wake you, did I?" Sherlock smiled slightly, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"You know you didn't, Sherlock." John grinned, sitting back so his back rested against the wall.

"Yes, well. Um, you asked what happened. And I'd like to tell you."

"Alright. I was struggling to sleep anyway."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't worry, mate." John replied with a smile, patting Sherlock's shoulder.

Sherlock nodded slightly before getting more comfortable on the bed.

"I was seven years old and I went into Mycroft's office. We'd played pirates since I was four, but that day was different … Mycroft was working as usual but I could tell something had changed. I tried to get him to play anyway but he told me that I needed to grow up because I wouldn't be a little boy forever. We'd always played games together so I didn't understand. Mycroft insisted though and he was my big brother so I listened to him. I went up to my room and through the toys across the room. It seemed like they were mocking me all of a sudden. From that day forward, I stopped playing games and started acting like a grown up." Sherlock said softly, tears welling in his eyes.

"How could Mycroft do that to you?" John asked, slightly angry.

"It wasn't his fault. Father had taught us to grow up quite quickly. I can't believe Mycroft played games with me for as long as he did. He was well past the age of what my father considered 'maturity'."

"Still, couldn't have Mycroft given you so leeway? You were just a kid."

"Father instilled the rules very strictly." Sherlock whispered hoarsely, looking at the floor.

"Oh Sherlock, come here." John replied softly, pulling Sherlock into his arms.

Sherlock fell into John's arms and buried his face in the older man's chest, sobbing to himself as he gripped onto John's t-shirt.

"It's alright, Sher. It's okay. Just let it out." John whispered into his friend's hair, stroking his back gently.

It was strange for Sherlock to show such emotion and John could feel himself welling up.

"John." Sherlock sobbed, burying his face in John's neck.

John hushed the younger man and kissed his curls.

Sherlock lifted his head up and looked John in the eyes before leaning up to peck him on the lips. John pulled back slightly, a confused look on his face before he leaned forward again to kiss Sherlock softly.

Sherlock's eyes fluttered shut as he brought his hand up to John's hair.

John tilted his head slightly to get a better angle and smiled when he heard Sherlock moan softly.

"John, can I …" Sherlock started as the kiss broke.

"Yes, Sher, you can stay." John interrupted, placing a kiss to Sherlock's forehead.

"Will you … Um, will you remember this?" Sherlock asked in a whisper, looking up at John.

"I'm not drunk, Sherlock. Of course I'll remember this. You might have to give me a few minutes to adjust in the morning though, okay?"

"Alright, John." Sherlock smiled, kissing John again before snuggling down under the covers.

John manoeuvred Sherlock so that his head was resting on his chest and pulled the blanket up to cover them.

"I'm sorry, Sher."

"What for, John?"

"For what happened to you _and_ dragging up the past."

"It's perfectly alright, John. I already know so much about you, it was only fair to return the favour."

"Thank you." John smiled, kissing Sherlock's curls.

John felt Sherlock's breathing shallow and a soft snore escape as he started to drift.

"G'night, Sher." John whispered sleepily, letting sleep wash over him.


End file.
